Colors: Virgin White Snow
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Post-Cuffed fluff. Follow-up to 'The Little Blue Engine...' 'You slept soundly that first night, rocked to a peaceful slumber by the motion of the train. You woke early, the sun streaming in through the picture window of the sleeper car, the warm body of your partner molded around you, naked and so wonderful that you lay for ten whole minutes just smiling and staring...' COMPLETE


_A/N: This is a follow-up to 'The Little Blue Engine That Could'. Might be helpful to read that one first. Set post-Cuffed and it's unashamed fluff, just because we all need a little fluff in our lives now and again. Tense jumps a little in this one, from past reminiscence of their time on the train to present day at the Ryan wedding. __It's also quite long, so make that cup of coffee or visit the bathroom before you start and no yelling "Are we there yet?" ;)_

___This one-shot is dedicated to NoOrdinaryLines. Happy Birthday, AC! Hope you have a wonderful day, girl._

* * *

___"Ain't nothin' like the first time  
Nothin' like the first smile  
Looking at you seeing forever  
Keeps me going till the last mile  
And I held on like crazy  
Until our goodbye baby  
I still miss you lately  
Ain't nothin' like the first time_

_There's a magic in the way_  
_You will always stay_  
_There's a magic in the way_  
_You will always stay"_

___**- Lady Antebellum**, 'Nothin' Like The First Time'_

* * *

_**Virgin White Snow**_

You've had one hell of a week since you got back from Chicago. The case blew up when a witness recanted, leaving you with some shaky forensics and an even shakier ex-wife to hang the grand jury hearing on. A fire that could be arson or could be the result of landlord negligence, a fire investigator with a genetic dislike for the NYPD – grandfather, father, brother, all proud members of 'Midtown's Most Wanted' Engine 65, three generations and counting - and an ADA with a suspect political agenda to top it all off.

Long days and nights spent working late at the precinct meant the odd hour snatched on the break room couch to sleep and little time for any kind of a personal life. You haven't had a chance to talk, much less do anything else, and for once you find that you hate it.

* * *

You slept soundly that first night, rocked to a peaceful slumber by the motion of the train. You woke early, the sun streaming in through the picture window of the sleeper car, the warm body of your partner molded around you, naked and so wonderful that you lay still for ten whole minutes just smiling and staring at him while he slept.

"I wondered where you went," croaked Castle, his voice rough with sleep, when you came out of the small shower-cum-toilet compartment, a less than fluffy Amtrak towel wrapped around you.

You handed him a bottle of water and took one for yourself. The heating had kicked in sometime during the night and you felt dehydrated.

"Not many places _to_ go in case you hadn't noticed," you said, dryly, sitting down on the edge of the bunk and leaning in to give Castle a good morning kiss.

He seemed surprised, as if he expected some awkwardness or resistance from you, or worse, a sense of regret or an outright rejection.

"Hey, what's up?" you asked, curling up in the bunk beside him.

He moved back to make more space for you, but you stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"There's a wall right behind you Castle. If you're trying to run, I'd wait until we pull into Albany," you teased.

"I'm not running," he insisted, uncapping the water and downing half the bottle in one go.

"But you think I am?" you added, perceptively, running the hem of the stiff, white sheet under your fingernail.

"No, I…" he hesitated, before sighing in defeat. "Okay, I might have wondered exactly _how_ you would be this morning. How this would go," he confessed.

"Because I went to take a shower? Castle, come on. You were here last night," you pointed out. "I know because I saw you, and not only that, I felt you, and…" you whispered, kissing his jaw with your smile, "…I even heard you."

"So, you liked it?" he asked, tentatively, blue eyes tiptoeing up from the navy blanket to meet yours.

This lack of swagger and actual self-doubt was not what you ever expected to see from him in this situation. Not at all.

"I had an amazing time, Castle, I…"

"Had?" he chipped in, pessimistically, clearly hung up on some notion that this was going to turn out to be a onetime thing after all.

"Please let me finish. Are you always like this in the morning?" you joked, trotting his own line back to him from that god-awful basement.

"Sorry. Please. Continue," he told you, holding out his hand to give you the floor.

"Last night was…" you shook your head, searching for a better word, a fuller description, and failed. "..._amazing._ Castle, I don't have any regrets. But if you do, then please tell me before I go making a fool of myself here."

"No. No regrets from me," he told you, smoothing his hand up and down your leg.

"Okay. Good. Because breakfast is gonna be here any minute, so I suggest you take a shower before Ryan and Esposito call for an update."

"What? That's _it_? Our first morning together and you're kicking me out of bed so you can put on some clothes and talk to the guys? You do know they can't _see_ us, right?"

"Castle, we have at least nine hours left on this train," you pointed out, leaning across to kiss him again, your nails grazing his scalp while you raked your fingers through his hair, drawing him closer, closer, and keeping him there, showing him with your kisses all the things you couldn't yet put into words.

"And who said anything about getting dressed?" you added teasingly, when you finally released him from the kiss, pressing your forehead again his just to prolong the moment, before work and life could get in the way. "Nine hours, Castle. Four years to make up for. You think we can make a dent?"

He smiled at you. No, actually, not smiled so much as beamed; a little of the cocky, handsome man you cared so much about making a welcome reappearance. It troubled you that when you got close to one another he seemed to be on shaky ground - with you, because of you. You wanted to make him more not less, wanted him to do the same for you too – better together than apart. Today was that new beginning, speeding past Lake Erie, the blue grey water sparkling in the early morning sun, the whitest drifts of untouched snow lining the banks beyond the window of the cabin; the perfect metaphor for this virgin territory you were now entering together.

* * *

You ate breakfast in a pool of warm sunshine that illuminated the single armchair in your cabin like a golden throne, your legs crossed, feet bare, while the train headed inexorably east. The little table was laid out between you both, and you shared scrambled eggs, cinnamon raisin bread, French toast and a plate of fruit the attendant brought directly to the cabin. Orange juice and coffee sorted out your tired, dehydrated brains, so that by the time the boys called, you were fully up to speed on your end of the case and eagerly awaiting the information you needed from them.

You put your cell phone on speaker and laid it on the table between you. Castle sat back on the bunk you'd both slept on, watching you quietly through the opening bars of the conversation.

"Beckett, is Castle still with you?" asked Esposito, after a few minutes of back and forth.

"Yeah. Or did you push him off the train in the dead of night when you crossed the state line?" butted in Ryan, and you could hear the two boys congratulating one another on their humorous remarks, back slapping and 'Yeah, bro. Good one' coming from Espo.

You slowly raised your eyes to meet your partner's, a feral grin on your face. Castle raised one eyebrow, his smile as wide as yours, but you shook your head, needing a little more time to process things before coming clean. Let the wedding be your statement, your declaration, it was a fitting event to be coming out at after all.

"Yeah. He's still here," you said, with laconic amusement, throwing your napkin at him when he put his foot up on your chair and playfully nudged your knee with his socked toes, before leaning back to lounge on the bunk and sip his coffee; cool as a cucumber. "But we have nine hours left inside this tin can, so who knows what might happen," you added, holding Castle's gaze.

"Just don't let him get you into any 'Murder on the Orient Express' type scenario," advised Esposito. "Dude attracts trouble like flies to manure."

"_See,_" you mimed at your partner, covering your mouth to suppress a laugh. "Don't worry. I've restricted him to his cabin to keep him out of trouble," you replied, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

"So…what? He's not with you right now?" asked Ryan, and you could hear his puzzlement.

"Eh…no. He's here," you replied, biting the inside of your cheek and wincing when you realized the trap you'd just walked into, hoping these two were not on the top of their game today.

"Hey, Castle!" they both yelled, and you imagined them waving somehow too. Before Ryan added, "So…is this a 'mi casa es su casa' type of thing? Or did you just come to Beckett's cabin for the call?"

"Sorry, Ryan. You're breaking up," you jumped in to say, before Castle could reply for himself. "Bad reception out here. Look I'll call you back later when we get near Rochester," you added, ending the call quickly and then sinking back in your chair with your head in your hands.

* * *

"Sorry, I kind of walked us right into that," you apologized to Castle, after checking the line was dead.

"Hey, don't be. It'll keep them busy for the next few hours. But, you know, they _are_ going to find out come Saturday," he pointed out gently.

"That we're going to the wedding together?" you hedged, not wanting to presume anymore than that.

"_That_, and however much else we want them to know. Cake and dancing, Kate. You promised," he said, smiling softly. "No backing out now."

"We can still do cake and dancing and they wouldn't have to know," you agued back, though really just for the sake of it, under no illusions how it will look to your friends that you even turned up to the church with Castle.

"Have you forgotten how things get when we dance?" he smirked.

"Yeah, embarrassing, from what I can recall. You get all showy, with the twirling and the dipping and…

"Hey, we had a deal. I get to feed you cake and you dance with me. But I already promised, no dipping."

"Good. Just so we're clear," you giggled, feeling like a forth-grader with her first crush.

"Crystal," he grinned and you grinned back.

"They're going to figure this out before Saturday, aren't they?" you asked after a quiet pause.

"Only if we let them."

"My expense report will show up only one cabin."

"They look at your expenses?"

"Gates does."

"You could always tell her I reserved my own."

"This ticket is for double-occupancy."

"Right. Didn't quite think this through, did we?"

"Didn't quite think we'd be doing this either," you added, stretching out one of your own legs and planting it between his, your bare toes coming dangerously close to brushing his crotch.

Castle caught hold of your foot when you tried to pull it away. Telling you to relax, he started to massage the arch, then your heel and ankle.

"Hey, the airport closure's the only reason we're on this thing in the first place. No surprise it was sold out. Only way back to New York," pointed out Castle.

"Yeah. And what am I even saying?" you asked, mostly to yourself, rubbing your forehead. "We have nothing to be ashamed of. Biggest risk is this gets you kicked out of the precinct for good. Gates is always looking for an excuse and this might just give her one."

"Job or relationship? You choose. But if I have to stop following you around to be in a relationship with you, Kate, then I will. There is no choice in my book."

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. I kinda like having you around," you confessed, giving Castle a smile and then switching feet in his lap, closing your eyes while he continued the foot rub you'd inadvertently started.

* * *

You spent the rest of the day in bed, torturing one another with the slowest, laziest touching session you'd ever experienced – getting to know each other's bodies intimately – hours to kill and that the perfect way to do it. The sex was gentle, deep, languorous and thorough, your muscles soon ached from overuse, your body felt weak and heavy, draped over his under starched white sheets and an Amtrak blanket, his arm around you, hand splayed heavily on your back.

You slept for an hour after that, waking up feeling warm and sweaty, your cheek still resting on his shoulder, arm thrown over his chest, while Castle pressed kisses to the top of your head and stroked the length of your back.

"Hey, gorgeous," he whispered, when you cracked one eye open, smiling peacefully to yourself when you realized this wasn't a dream.

"Shhh," you replied, closing your eyes again and brushing your lips over his heart. "Sleep," you murmured, snuggling on top of his naked body, until he started to groan and his hips twitched and your realized what you'd done, what you'd started again.

Your lovemaking was interspersed by short breaks; brief interludes where you whispered secrets to one another and giggled over stories you'd never had occasion to share before. Even a game of eye-spy turned dirty when Castle insisted you keep hunting for something beginning with 'P' long after you'd offered up pistol, pillow, picture, purse, pine trees, pants and pumps. You finally found his word choice, somewhere outside Buffalo, under the covers…with your mouth.

* * *

Day eventually turned back into night, hours still to go as you travelled across New York State, the promise to call Ryan forgotten among the mind-blowing, miraculous events of the last day.

"I think I love snow storms," you murmured, kissing the soft hollow at the base of Castle's throat, and then laying your head on one side, your ear pressed over his heart, you listened to the steady rick-rack rhythm that matched the clatter of the train on the tracks.

"I think I love…" He paused, his thumb strumming your spine thoughtfully. "I think I love having sex on a train," he clarified, and you both knew that he'd ducked out of saying what was really on his mind, both choosing to let it go. Not yet ready to hear more than you'd shared already.

"First time?" you asked, leaning up to look at him.

"Bucket list," he nodded, kissing your nose.

"Glad I could be of service in that case."

"Oh, there's plenty more where that came from," he assured you, rolling you both onto your side. "I have quite the list waiting for us back home."

His easy talk of future and plans wasn't lost on you; how quickly he could turn this from just sex on a train into a fully committed relationship – no discussion really required, no big heart-to-heart, or where is this going? He just…_assumed_, and you found that you didn't mind, since you'd basically been heading down this road for the last four years as sure as if you'd been running on rails all along.

* * *

When your stomachs told you it was time, you got up and showered - one at a time in the tiny shower compartment - before heading out to the dining car to eat. It felt strange, being among other people for the first time since everything had changed between you. You felt conspicuous, a little self-conscious. Overnight, you had become one of those couples that you had recently avoided being around – the kind of people who communicate without speaking, using only glances and touch, your languid posture and tired eyes telling tales you'd find it hard to deny.

You called the boys from Poughkeepsie, only two more stops left after that, your blossoming romance about to face the first test of real life when the guys showed up to meet you at the station.

You packed slowly, never expecting the last twenty hours to feel like too little time, instead of too much.

"You ready?" Castle asked you, planting his hands on your shoulders, towering over you in your bare feet.

"No choice, right?" you said, leaning in to accept the kiss he pressed to your forehead.

"We'll be fine," he assured you. "Saturday's less than a week away and then we don't have to pretend anymore."

"It's not that," you explained, frowning.

"Then what?"

"Just…we've been in this little bubble here. What if it doesn't feel the same when we get back?"

"You seriously think there's a chance that it won't? Because I have no doubts about this, Kate," he told you, with a gravity and a tenderness that buoyed you.

When the train pulled into New York's Penn Station, you made your way out into the corridor hand-in-hand, after one long, last look at your love nest.

"We should do this again sometime," whispered Castle, as you leaned back against him waiting for the train to come to a complete stop. "Make one hell of an anniversary trip."

You felt your own body stiffen beneath the arm Castle had slung across your chest, your hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, holding on.

"Too soon?" he murmured, next to your ear, obviously having felt your reaction.

"No. No, just…give me some time. And then push me if I start to resist. It's just…it's just me, Castle," you told him, turning your head to look up at him to let him see how sincere you were about working for this.

"I know," he murmured, letting you go.

* * *

You walked side-by-side the length of the platform, trailing your wheeled cases behind you and chatting idly; parting ways never having weighed so heavily on you before. Ryan and Esposito were waiting for you out by the curb, and so you stopped Castle just before your reached the entrance to enable you to say goodbye in private.

"I've had the best time. Thank you," you told him, stretching up to kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

"Kate, you have no idea," breathed Castle, with no shortage of passion in his voice as he clung to you, until you were forced to let go.

The boys watched you both carefully when Castle loaded your luggage into the trunk of their car, and then you waved him off to get a cab home to shower and rest and take some time out to visit with his family, fighting the urge to look back at him when he walked away.

You sank down into the back seat of the Charger, falling into a pensive silence the boys initially worked hard to penetrate, finding yourself staring dreamily out of the window instead of engaging in their bantering back-and-forth. The nudges and whispers weren't lost on you, but you found yourself with neither the urge nor the energy to care, preferring to remain in your Castle-induced haze, wondering how a train ride from Chicago could so thoroughly derail the quiet, lonely path your life had been on.

Impulsively, you pulled out your phone and typed a quick message, pressing send before you could think about it twice.

'YOU + ME: RETURN TRIP – NYC TO CHICAGO – ONE YEAR FROM TODAY' it read, signed off 'Kate x'.

Ten minutes later Castle's reply arrived. It was short and to the point.

'BOOKED! x' it simply said, and you couldn't wipe the smile off your face for the rest of the ride downtown.

* * *

At the precinct the next day he showed up with your customary coffee, handing you your cup with a dazzling smile and a warm 'Good Morning, Detective,' that made you shiver, imagining his hands on your body instead of wrapped around the cardboard cup, marveling that you knew exactly what that felt like now, no stretch of the imagination a match for the vivid reality you'd created together on that train.

The barista had drawn a little Sharpie heart after your name, and you pursed your lips when you saw it, trying to fight back the grin your partner was patiently waiting to see as he sat quietly in his tatty chair next to your desk.

"This your doing?" you asked, raising your eyes to meet his after your first, long sip of coffee.

"Hey, I can't be held responsible for Billy's doodles," he deadpanned, before adding, "But he said to tell you congratulations," a surprise reply that had you barking out a laugh and sloughing off the layer of exhaustion that had been dogging you in the process.

"Congratulations?" you smirked. "What for? Landing _you?_"

Castle shrugged, lifting his own coffee cup to his lips and drinking slowly.

"You said it, Beckett," he added, quickly getting up to join the guys at the murder board, leaving you grinning down at your cup.

* * *

Later that day, talk turned to the wedding and who among you was bringing a plus one. Esposito pounced on Castle first, quizzing him over who his date was going to be. You were sitting side-by-side, scrutinizing a file, and Castle nudged you discreetly. Within seconds you were like a couple of kids in homeroom: grinning at one another, your giggle barely suppressed, the hair twirling just…_not_. You shrugged, leaving it up to him, looking back down at your file with a smile still plastered to your face, waiting for your partner to take up the permission you'd just granted him and use it.

"Alexis is still checking her schedule," he replied, vaguely, leading you to raise your head in surprise.

"What about you, Beckett?" you heard Espo ask.

"Eh…" you hesitated, glancing at Castle again, feeling his foot graze yours, "Mine's already promised," you replied, with equal vagueness, though it wasn't clear whether you meant your wedding invitation or your heart.

* * *

So now you're standing in front of your bedroom mirror, zipping up the charcoal grey dress you're wearing to the wedding. It's fitted, structured, a lightly quilted shift with an angular peplum at the waist. It draws attention to your body, but in a very subtle way; figure hugging but unrevealing, with short puffed sleeves and a respectable hemline. You step into your heels - black platform pumps that raise your height by a good four inches - and then you inspect your reflection. You're more nervous than you expected to be going to the Ryan's wedding, because suddenly this happy event has turned into a date for you and Castle. More than that, it's a _first date_ and it's being held in the full public glare of your work family and friends.

You check your clutch for the fifth time - off-duty piece, shield, lipstick, cash, cards and keys. Not typical first date accessories...but when were you ever anything close to typical?

He knocks on the front door while you're pacing your apartment, a long to and fro that takes you straight back to the train carriage again: the narrow alley you've been plowing between kitchen counter signal box and sofa buffer, wearing parallel tracks on your living room rug. You freeze, consider running to the bedroom to check your make-up again, but take a deep breath instead and decide to dive right in.

"Hi," you say, both smiling shyly at one another.

He's standing awkwardly in your hallway, looking taller, more handsome and infinitely more nervous than you can ever remember.

He holds out a small box to you, or rather thrusts it in your direction, the guileless action like that of a child handing over a painting he's just made for mommy - pleased and proud and a touch scared - looking as if he's offering you his heart in that little white box, asking you to love him, instead of giving you a corsage.

"Oh, wow! Castle, this is beautiful," you say, genuinely meaning it, since the creamy white orchid is indeed beautiful, with its fleshy petals, just a hint of a pale pink blush at its heart, the snowy perfection off-set by dark green olive leaves, their dusty greyness a perfect match for your dress.

"I wasn't sure what you planned on wearing," he mumbles, scuffing the toe of his highly polished black lace-up across your doormat.

"This is perfect," you reassure him. "Come in while I pin it on," you suggest, stepping back to allow him space to enter.

This is the first time he's been in your apartment since things developed between you on the train, and it's the first chance you've had to be alone together since your trip. He walks past you and stops just inside the living room, looking around your home as if it's his first time here.

"Make yourself comfortable," you tell him, about to head to the bedroom to figure out the best way to secure the corsage onto your dress when he catches your wrist, easily turning you back around as if he's dancing with you already.

"How about we say a proper hello first?" he asks bravely, placing his free hand on your waist and drawing you towards him. "I missed you, Kate. You look stunning," he whispers, kissing you lightly on the lips.

You realize, when he compliments you, that you've been too nervous to really look at him properly, so you step back, still holding his hand, and give him a deliberate, lingering once-over. He has on a well-cut black suit, sparkling white shirt you're pretty certain is just out of the packaging and a black silk necktie. He does look spectacular - tall, elegant, handsome and classy - his hair gelled back, making it look darker than usual. And his boutonnière is a perfect match for yours.

"And you'll do," you tease him, pulling him back in by his lapels for a long, slow kiss.

You look at one another for a second, smiling, feeling the crazy newness of the situation; that special blend of awkwardness mixed in with a healthy desire to jump things forward.

"Ready for today?" he asks you, lacing his hands in the small of your back, your hipbones kissing his.

"Yes," you reply thoughtfully, nodding as you consider his question. "Now that you're here, I think I am."

"Then how about you let me help you with that, and then we make tracks. Wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves by arriving after the bride."

"This your way of asking for an invite into my bedroom?" you smirk, watching your partner's face come alive.

But he surprises you, just as he always does, making you laugh more than any man ever had the power to.

"Actually, it was my way of creating a opportunity to feel you up. But if you're offering the guided tour," he winks. "Lead on, Kate."

He has you pinned up against your dresser, panting and breathless after just a few seconds, when you suddenly see the clock by the bed.

"We really do have to go," you tell him, gently pushing him away with both hands against his chest and then smoothing down the tight skirt of your dress.

"Sorry, my fault" he says, standing patiently while you straighten up his necktie and fix his hair. "All good?" he asks, wiping your lipstick onto his white handkerchief.

"Yeah, let's get out of here before we end up in bed and miss the wedding altogether."

You close the door with a solid bang and turn to find Castle waiting for you, offering you his arm. It's not weird that your partner is your date to your friends' wedding you tell yourself for the umpteenth time that day. It's not. And when he takes your hand in the car, you know for sure that it isn't.

* * *

The church is busy, lots of people milling around outside, and it's beautiful: flowers placed everywhere you look - colorful, pretty, romantic and feminine, just like Jenny.

"Ready?" asks Castle, his face filled with nervous anticipation, which you know is all about you, about how you're going to handle this private side of your life being exposed in public.

"Ready," you nod, taking his arm before he offers it to you, surprising him this time.

When you enter the foyer you hear your name being called before you even see Esposito.

"Hey, Beckett. Where's your date?" he asks, grinning.

Kevin arrives to join your little group before you have a chance to reply, and he's bouncing with nervous energy, clearly running on adrenalin.

"Kevin, you look fantastic," says Castle, letting go of your arm to shake the groom by the hand.

"Jenny won't believe her eyes," you tell Ryan, kissing him on the cheek.

"Where's your date, Castle," asks Ryan, standing still just long enough to look around.

"Yeah, don't tell me you got stood up, bro," teases Esposito, punching Castle's shoulder with some glee.

"Sorry, boys," you hear Castle reply, and then your ears begin to ring when you feel the back of his hand touch yours, your knuckles brushing, left hand against right. "Not quite."

He moves his hand back half an inch and then your palms kiss, fingers interlacing to seal the deal.

You watch Ryan's eyes widen and the puzzled look Esposito gives his partner when he gets a sharp dig in the ribs from the groom.

But then the organist strikes up and all attention is diverted to the top of the stairs where Jenny has just appeared with her half of the bridal party. A parade of bridesmaids and flower girls line the old stone stairwell, ranking downwards by height, with Jenny at the very top of the steps ready to descend. Attention is pulled away from who Castle may or may not be bringing to the wedding by the effort it takes to stop Ryan from turning around to look at his bride to be.

You find yourself brimming with pride when Castle calls out, "Oh, Jenny, you look amazing."

She blushes, her face filled up with radiant excitement, a bride so eager to be married that being late for the ceremony was never going to be on the cards, tradition or not.

"Thank you, Rick," she beams, and you feel Castle surreptitiously squeeze your hand.

"Kevin, you are a lucky man," Castle tells the detective.

"Don't I know it," Ryan agrees, bouncing on his toes with delight.

The boys bustle to take their places at the front of the church, and so after a quick round of hugs and cries of 'good luck', you find yourselves alone again.

"You know, I gotta say, I kind of envy him," Castle tells you, with a wistful look on his face.

You debate your answer for a mere nanosecond, because you believe it to be true and from the heart and you think that maybe he needs to hear it, today of all days.

"Well, who knows, Castle," you say brightly, shrugging to keep your comment light, "maybe third time's a charm?"

He looks at you - the pair of you standing alone at the back of a flower-filled church, dressed in your finery, a full congregation waiting and an empty aisle stretching out before you like an open invitation - and he smiles.

"Yeah, maybe" he says, nodding in agreement and giving you a thoughtful look. "Shall we?"

* * *

You walk slowly down the center aisle together holding onto his arm, and it's hard not to wonder if this might be you in time, if things work out as you hope they will. Heads turn to admire the pair of you as you pass by, the odd familiar face smiling in greeting, a hand raised in welcome.

Castle takes your elbow when you finally stop to edge your way into a pew on the right hand side of the church, his left hand on your waist to steady you past the kneeler in your towering heels. You catch the widening brown eyes of Lanie Parish openly staring at you as you settle in beside one another, sitting far closer than you would have this time a week ago.

Castle leans in to whisper in your ear, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at his funny remark – something about Jenny's young cousin that you really didn't need to hear. The warmth of his body pressed up against yours, the solid masculinity of his large, muscular frame, his height, even his smell makes you dizzy, makes you wish you'd eaten more than a single slice of toast several hours ago.

When the first familiar bars of Mendelssohn's Wedding March strike up, you stand along with the rest of the congregation, and you find yourself swaying on your feet, a little light-headed.

"Whoa, there," murmurs Castle, slipping his arm around your waist to catch you. "You okay?" he asks, with concern as you try to stand a little straighter.

You nod, but allow yourself to lean against him for support for a second, letting your spinning head take time to settle. You look up from where your hand is braced on the pew in front of you to find Lanie's concerned face looking back at you again. You give her a smile and shake your head, letting her know that you're okay, turning to train your eyes on Jenny when she glides past on her father's arm, her beautiful beaming smile lighting up the entire church; a vision in bridal white.

"Just a little light-headed," you murmur to Castle. "I'll be fine in a second," you promise, taking a deep breath and focusing on the opening hymn - 'Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring.'

Finally, everyone settles back into their seats to the accompaniment of much shuffling, creaking of wooden benches and rustling of hymnals, waiting for the service to begin.

When the priest asks if anyone present knows of any lawful impediment why Jenny and Kevin should not be joined in holy matrimony, Castle plants both hands on the pew and leans forward, bracing himself as if to stand up and interject.

You gasp slightly, and put your hand firmly on his thigh, forcing him to sit back in his seat.

"Don't _do_ that," you hiss, fighting a nervous bubble of laughter, nudging him in the ribs.

"Come on," he smirks. "Like Kevin wouldn't do the same if that was you and me up there," he whispers back, raising a fierce blush on your cheeks at the mere suggestion.

"You know when we were on the train and I said 'push me'…?" you murmur.

"Too much?" he asks, grinning winsomely at you.

"Just a little."

"Can't help it. I'm getting carried away by the romance of the occasion," he tells you, making feeble excuses.

"Then try harder," you mutter, focusing on the service once more, your cheeks still a bright shade of pink, your stupid, hopeful heart racing.

* * *

When the priest finally pronounces the happy couple husband and wife and Kevin takes Jenny in his arms for a long, lingering kiss, the assembled guests break into a round of applause and you hear Javi's piecing whistle from the front of the church. The wide smile on your face is genuine, the tears in your eyes tears of happiness for your friends, and when you feel your partner's hand brush your thigh in search of your own you take it gratefully, holding on tight, so glad not to be here doing this alone while Castle stands by some other woman's side leaving you wishing he was with you.

Lanie corners you out front, making a beeline towards both of you while you stand back watching the wedding party pose on the steps for photographs.

"Well don't you two look nice with your matching corsages and happy little grins. Got something to tell me, Kate Beckett?" she asks, separating you off from Castle, who is quickly engaged in conversation by the M.E.'s handsome date, Toby.

"It's new, okay?" you hiss, when she gives you that piecing Lanie stare.

"How new?" she drawls.

"A week ago. We took a night train back from Chicago and one thing led to another," you admit, smiling down at your own shoes, fighting to hold your happiness in for fear of overshadowing the bride.

"A _week_…?" she screeches, and you see Castle looking over at you with concern. "And I'm just hearing about this now? Kate how could you?"

"We've been working solid since we got back," you protest. "That arson case is going nowhere fast. I've spent almost every night at the precinct."

"Working, huh? Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?" she asks tartly, clearly not believing a word.

"No. That's the truth. We haven't had a minute alone since we got back."

"_So_…you're telling me you slept with Writer Boy on that train and then…_nothin'?_"

You nod.

"Girl, you two gotta be hot to trot by now," she blurts loudly, and you have to shush her to stop the other guests overhearing.

"Who else knows about this?" she asks, looking around the crowd for other people you both know.

"No one. Just you," you assure her, watching Javi escort his cousin out of the church and begin heading in your direction.

"Is it supposed to be a secret? Because the way that man is looking at you today and with the touching y'all are doin'…that secret ain't gonna remain a secret for long, I'm telling you."

"Don't worry. It's fine. We don't want to make a big deal of it. This is Jenny and Ryan's special day. So, whatever people see, they see. We're just here to have a good time and celebrate with the Ryans like everybody else."

"You surprise me, Kate. You really do," smiles Lanie, pulling you into a hug.

"What was that for?" you ask, when she lets you go.

"For getting here…_finally_. You guys are great together. I'm thrilled for you, Kate."

"Thanks, Lanie. I know it took a while but it was worth it," you tell your friend, giving her a wink.

"Oh my God, you are so giving me details. But first, let's go get a drink."

* * *

Lanie and Esposito share a cab to the reception with their respective dates, leaving you and Castle to take the Ferrari.

"You're letting me drive?" he asks in surprise, when you hand him back the keys to his own car that he gave you for safekeeping when you arrived at the church.

"Just don't get used to it," you tell him, smiling to yourself as you sink down into the low-slung seat, lolling your head back on the headrest and letting out a long, slow sigh.

"You sure you're okay? You seemed a little…_fragile_ back there. Sure you don't want me to take you home so you can lie down for a bit?"

You open your eyes slowly and then turn your head to look at your partner.

"First of all, that has got to be _the_ worst 'come to bed with me' line I've ever heard," you laugh, poking Castle in the side.

"I was being _serious!_" he insists, laughing at your outburst. "You looked as if you were about to faint in there. I was trying to be a gentleman."

"Okay, if you insist," you reply skeptically, narrowing your eyes at him. "But, second of all, just because we're…_dating_ now," you force out, hating yourself for hesitating over the word, "doesn't mean you get to call me things like 'fragile', Castle. I'm not some delicate little flower who needs protected and cosseted," you assert, deciding it's time to lay down a few ground rules early on.

"I…I stand corrected," he concedes, giving in just a little too easily. "So, home to bed or on to the reception? You choose," he smirks, waiting for your next feisty reply.

"If I say 'reception' are you going to think that I don't want to sleep with you again? Because, Castle, I can't go through the whole pouting thi—?"

He silences you with a kiss that sends your brain into orbit, one hand braced on the seat beside you, the other one slipping under your hair to cradle the back of your neck as his tongue sweeps so thoroughly into your mouth that you think it's possible you did just pass out.

"Oh, God," you gasp, coming up for air, realizing that you're clutching at his jacket like a drowning man with a lifebelt.

"No pouting, I promise," he smiles, pecking your cheek, and then calmly turning away to fire up the engine and put the car in drive. "Just so long as you let me do that every once and a while."

"I think I might have to insist," you laugh, throwing your head back against the creamy-white leather seat and resisting the urge to squeal as the car takes off down the street with a throaty roar.

* * *

Castle drops the Ferrari off with the valet in front of the hotel and you walk up the front steps together. You spot Lanie, Toby, Esposito and his cousin, Francesca, standing sipping Champagne just inside the entrance to the suite of rooms the reception is due to take place in.

"I'm going to go powder my nose," you tell Castle. "How about you get us a glass of Champagne and I'll meet you inside."

Castle nods, but makes no move to leave, just stands there in the lobby admiring you as you walk away, and you feel your whole body come alive, tingling from head to toe with his eyes trained on you until you disappear from sight.

When you return a few minutes later, the guys are all standing in a huddle, laughing and chatting, and you watch them with a warm sense of pride as you get closer; how happy your friends are despite what you do everyday for a living.

Castle hands you a glass of Champagne when you reach his side, but then he takes your wrist and turns you away from the group for a second to have a word in private.

"Beckett, we have a problem," he whispers, shooting electricity up and down your spine when his warm hand caresses your skin. "I just checked the seating plan and we're on different tables."

"_Oh_," you reply, mind immediately whirring over the options.

"Yeah, they put you next to that muscle-bound beef-cake, Boardman, from Narcotics. The guy Ryan used to work with. You know the one. Always looks as if he's about to burst out of his shirt like he's the Incredible Hulk or something," he grumbles.

"And you?"

"Jenny's old sorority sister, girl named Missy Penman."

"Oh, the one with the big—ah ha," you nod, looking over at the pneumatic blonde wearing the tight, shiny, strapless red dress.

"Yeah, with the big hair," inserts Castle, giving you a pleading look. "We have to fix this."

"Well, I do seem to recall you telling Kevin that you were looking forward to meeting all of Jenny's sorority sisters. Looks like you got your wish. Time to do a little up-close-and-personal rushing of your own today, Castle. Welcome to Delta Sigma Theta," you grin, nudging him in the ribs and turning back towards your friends.

But Castle takes your elbow and steers you away from the group again.

"No. You're not listening to me. Kate, you _have_ to take this seriously. I cannot sit through this reception with a couple of past-it sorority girls babbling either side of me while I pretend to be single. God only knows what Kevin and Jenny have told these women. You need to fix this," he whines.

"Oh, _I_ need to fix it? Why _me_?" you ask, one hand on your hip, thinking this explanation is going to be worth hearing.

"Because…because I can't sit there watching beef-cake Boardman fawn all over you either," he confesses, taking a swig of Champagne. "And these are _your_ colleagues. So, telling them that we're in a relationship kind of has to come from you," he adds quietly, looking at his feet and then up to see your reaction to this statement.

You consider what he's just said for a second, and then you nod slowly, because he's right, you would be unhappy too, and it's sweet, and yeah…you've both waited too long for this to put up with being apart any longer.

"Let me find Kevin when they get here and I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, let's just enjoy talking to our friends and stay calm," you tell him, turning away again.

"Fix it, Beckett," he hisses, tugging on the peplum of your dress.

"Castle, I said that I would. Now chill," you stage whisper back, looking to anyone observing like an old married couple having a domestic in public.

You look up to find your friends staring at both of you.

"Sorry," you blush, "minor seating issue."

"Oh, you've got your eye on the blonde with the big…" grins Esposito at Castle, making a curvaceous body shape outline with his hands.

"_Javi!_" barks Lanie, shaking her head and making a throat slitting gesture with her hand.

"Sorry, am I missing something?" asks Esposito, clearly out of the loop.

"No. It's fine. I just need a word with Kevin," you say, heading over to the entrance where the newly married couple has just arrived.

You congratulate them both, and Jenny tears up when you hug her, clearly overwhelmed by the outpouring of love they're receiving today from everyone around them.

"Kevin, can I have a quick word?" you ask, really speaking to both of them. "I think you maybe noticed back at the church…um, this is a little awkward," you hesitate, not knowing how else to say it except just to say it.

Kevin doesn't jump in, just lets you take your time.

"Castle and I, we…we're together now, and…"

Jenny squeals before you can say anything else, drawing surprised looks from the assembled guests as she starts to bounce up and down on the spot and then hugs you excitedly, her bouquet still clutched in one hand.

"I'm so pleased for you," she cries, more tears coming to her eyes. "Isn't that wonderful, Kevin?" she asks her new husband. "And on our wedding day!"

"Actually, it kind of happened a week ago, but this is our first public event together, so we were kind of wondering if…"

"Oh, we have to move Boardman," exclaims Jenny, waving over one of the wait staff before you can even ask, excitedly giving instructions about who needs to be moved where, while Kevin addresses you.

"I have to admit I saw him take your hand in the church and I kind of hoped," smiles Ryan. "I'm so pleased for you both, Kate. I hope you'll be as happy as me and Jenny."

"Thank you, Kevin," you say, genuinely moved, as you accept his hug of congratulations.

"Well?" asks Castle, when you return to his side, the strain of not knowing clearly showing on his face.

"Boardman gets the sorority girls and _you_…? You get me," you grin, bumping your hip against your partner's.

"Oh, thank God," he rushes out, clinking his Champagne glass against yours and then taking a long swig.

"So, can we just relax and enjoy ourselves now?" you ask him, giving him a happy smile.

"Cake and dancing," he replies, nudging you with his shoulder, wearing a smile to match your own.

"Cake and dancing," you echo, drinking from your own glass of Champagne.

* * *

Dinner is lively. You have eight interesting people on your table and conversation flows easily from politics, to policing, censorship laws, to the latest movie releases and then onto the plot for Castle's next novel. Time flies by and you can't remember ever enjoying a wedding so much. Castle is attentive, considerate, he's easy to be with and comfortable in any social setting and you watch him entertain the entire table with undisguised pride. The four other couples are all married, and one woman in particular latches onto both of you with seemingly endless fascination for the 'writer and muse' dynamic people often take an interest in.

"So he's been following you around for over fours years?" she asks you, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "And how long before you gave into his charms?" she asks, throwing flirtatious glances Castle's way that indicate she'd have held out for all of five minutes, while her long-suffering husband downs his wine and waves the waiter over for a top-up.

"Oh, that took a while," you answer vaguely, waving your hand dismissively, not keen to admit how new the two of you are as a couple since it will only ensure that the rest of the table watches you like a hawk for the rest of the night.

"So, you guys might be next up the aisle?" she teases, like a dog with a bone.

You laugh a little falsely, hoping the strain isn't showing on your face as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You feel Castle's hand land on your knee beneath the tablecloth and he squeezes lightly, trying to tell you, 'I got this.' But you surprise him by jumping in with an answer you think will shut her up once and for all before he can open his mouth.

"Well, he'd have to ask me first," you say smoothly, before dumping your napkin on the table and rising from your chair. "Now, if you would all excuse me?" you add, picking up your clutch and heading off in search of the refuge offered by the ladies room.

* * *

"Kate. Kate, wait," calls Castle, hurrying to catch up with you, his white linen napkin somehow tucked into the front of his pants, flapping between his legs like a sporran.

"What's up?" you ask, stopping just out in the hall.

"Did you mean what you just said in there?" he asks, slightly out of breath, his face as serious as you've ever seen it.

"Which part?"

"About me asking you."

"Castle, I was just trying to put her in her place," you say softly, smoothing your hand down over his chest, aching for how earnest he looks right now; far too hopeful and all your fault.

"Because I would you know," he tells you, taking your hand.

Your ears start ringing again and you're worried this time you really will pass out.

"Castle, no. We only just got together," you say gently, shaking your head and sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand.

"You really believe that? You really believe that we just got together?" he asks, surprising you.

"I—what do you mean?"

"Just that…we're not as new as you think we are."

"How do you figure that?"

"Come on, Kate. Do the math. How long have we both been single, circling one another?"

"Castle, it's still too soon," you insist, gently.

"_Oh,_" he says, deflating like a punctured balloon.

"You know it is. This whole wedding thing…you're getting caught up in the moment. You'll be back to your marriage averse self on Monday," you try to reassure him. "Promise."

"Nah," he says, finally spotting the napkin dangling from his pants when he scuffs his shoe over the elaborate, swirly carpet, snatching it out of his belt. "That was just an act for the guys."

"You want to get married again?" you clarify, feeling a heat rush up your neck to your face, the vein in your forehead suddenly throbbing.

"Only if—" he stops, twisting the ivory-white napkin in his hands.

"Only if?" you prompt, your clutch pressed to your chest.

"Only if it's to you, Kate," he finally admits, looking up from the floor as if he expects to see you run screaming past him down the hall.

So he looks surprised to find you still standing there, your free hand over your mouth, tears welling in your eyes.

"Kate," he says quietly, reaching for your hand. "Don't," he shakes his head, brushing a tear away from your cheek. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," you whisper, fighting down a sob.

"Then what?" he asks tenderly, leading you behind a marble pillar for more privacy. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"You're so certain about this…about us, already, and I'm so scared," you confess.

"Why are you scared?" he asks quietly, offering you his handkerchief, your own pale pink lipstick smudge still staining the soft, white cotton.

"Look at my track record, Castle. The people I care about…they don't fare so well. And because this feels too important to mess up. If we don't work out then I lose my partner, my best friend and my lover all in one go."

The world seems to stop spinning right at that moment. People hurry past, but you don't see them, and you vaguely hear the band begin tuning up inside, but all you're really aware of is Castle, his hand wrapped around yours, and the look of devastation on his face as he considers the scenario you've just outlined. But like the sun slipping out from behind a tree, its low golden light spilling out onto cool, green grass, his expression suddenly changes from one of sorrow, to one of love and joy.

"Come here," he whispers, holding out his arms to you. "Come here."

You step into his embrace, your bodies aligning with that new perfect you've only just discovered, and it feels so right that you briefly consider telling him just to go ahead ask you here and now, 'too soon' be damned. Because if he asked, you _would_ say yes. How could you not?

But you hold that thought inside, telling yourself you're both getting too swept up in the moment, in the romance of Jenny and Kevin's big day, and you hold onto him instead, burying your face in his neck until you can force yourself to let go.

"We good?" asks Castle, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket.

"Yes," you nod, giving him a watery smile. "I'll be fine," you add, clearing your throat. "Now, I heard a rumor someone saved me a dance," you grin, offering him your hand.

* * *

Jenny and Ryan are just finishing the first dance when you join the crowd around the dance floor, the women clapping and cheering, a few of the men whistling, as the happy couple spin around the floor, smiling like it's going out of fashion.

The bridesmaids and groomsmen, and then finally the rest of the bridal party and assorted guests join in, crowding onto the floor.

"Shall we?" asks Castle, offering you his hand and bowing graciously in front of you.

"No dipping," you mouth, as you take his hand and move in close to him, placing your left hand on his back, your hips fitting together nicely.

You begin a slow waltz around the floor, talking quietly to one another the entire time, oblivious to the rest of the room, other than when you have to move aside to make way for other couples.

"Feel better?" asks Castle, walking his fingers around the small of your back to draw your even closer.

"Mmm," you murmur thoughtfully, flattening your palm over his spine, feeling the muscles of his back working under your hand, wishing you could get out of here, being this close to him suddenly not anything like enough anymore.

"Sure?" he asks, leaning back to check your face.

"Stay at my place tonight?" you blurt, realizing that you've made no plans beyond going to the wedding together and now that you're here you don't want to go home alone.

"For real?" asks Castle, his eyes roaming your face as you nod, a smile broadening your lips, cheeks pinking up with anticipatory pleasure.

"Yes. So? Will you?" you ask, biting you lip in case he says no for some reason.

"Try and stop me," he grins, spinning you away from the middle of the dance floor and over to a quieter corner of the room.

You pause, slowing down, now just marking time as he brings your hands between your bodies, until yours is resting over his heart with his on top.

"Kate?" he whispers, flicking his gaze down to your mouth and then up again to look at you, seeking permission with his eyes, which you grant with the barest of nods.

When he kisses you it's so delicate, so soft, full, tender and gentle, a barely there brush of the lips you take a second or two to enjoy before deepening it, moving your hand up from his back to cradle his head, your noses brushing when you finally pull back, still swaying in time to the music as he cups your jaw with the tips of his fingers. You dance on until the music stops, your foreheads touching, one hand on his chest, the other clutching the fabric of his jacket low down on his back.

"What the hell?" you hear Esposito exclaim, from a table somewhere behind you. "Did you _see_ that? Dude! Look at mom and dad," he blurts, slapping Ryan's arm, while his partner sits beside him with Jenny balanced on his knee. "When did _that_ happen?"

"You mean you didn't know?" asks Jenny, winking at Lanie, as if this is old news and Esposito has somehow managed to remain in the dark.

"Seriously? You all knew about this?" he asks, looking at the M.E., who nods lazily, a cat that got the cream smile on her face.

The music changes to something loud and up-tempo, so you move apart by mutual consent to walk over to the table your little gang has claimed as their own. Castle holds your hand until you get within a few feet, still feeling a little awkward about displaying your new relationship in front of everyone. But even when his hand is gone, his fingers remain pressed against the dip in your spine, maintaining a connection.

"How could you?" asks Esposito, getting up to tackle Castle in an awkward, manly hug. "Bro, you've been holding out on me," he says, feigning anger at first, before black-slapping Castle with the biggest smile on his face.

"And Beckett," he adds, giving you a kiss on the cheek. "So this reprobate is the guy your invitation was promised to? Bad form lying to your friends, girl," he grins, giving you a hug. "No, seriously. I'm pleased for both of you. But you hurt her and we hurt you, dude. Ain't that right, Kev?" he says, threatening Castle.

"Not going to be a problem," Castle replies, holding your gaze as he reaches for your hand and draws you back to his side. "She can take me down any day."

* * *

After a couple of more hours of drinking and dancing, and an embarrassing moment when Castle does indeed insist on hand feeding you a piece of wedding cake, (We had a deal, Kate) you're ready to go home. Your feet ache, your head feels pleasantly woozy, but you're happier than you can remember feeling in forever.

"Ready?" asks Castle, when you finally free yourself from Lanie's drunken girl-hug.

"Yep, let's go home," you say, taking his hand and heading for the front entrance.

You hail a cab, leaving the Ferrari with the hotel for the night. The streets are quiet and the journey from Midtown takes barely ten minutes to get to your place.

The light in the hallway outside your front door seems all too bright, the white light blinding after the darkness out on the street.

"Here. Let me?" suggests Castle, taking your keys and tackling the lock for you.

He pushes it open and ushers you inside, closing and locking it as if he performed this ritual every night.

You step out of your heels immediately, kicking them to one side, feeling your toes protest when you wiggle them to relieve some of the ache.

"I like you shorter," whispers Castle, suddenly standing right behind you, his hands landing on your waist, his lips brushing your neck. "Makes me feel…_strong,_" he growls.

"I like you period," you murmur, grasping hold of his wrists and drawing his arms around you so that your back is pressed up against his chest.

He walks you both towards the bedroom like this, waddling comically like a couple of penguins, and you giggle.

"Think that went okay?" he asks you, wrapping you up even tighter.

"They were pleased for us. So, yeah, it went well."

"You sure you want me to stay here tonight?" he asks, when you reach the bottom of your bed, gently turning you around to face him.

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise," you tell him, stretching up on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "But if you have to go…"

"Shhh," he soothes, hands framing your face, his thumbs sweeping your cheekbones, as he brushes his lips over yours, teasing you. "No place I'd rather be than here, Kate," he whispers, kissing your ear, your jaw, your eyelids, and then returning to your mouth to suck on your lower lip, breathing heavily through his nose when you moan, parting your lips so that he can slip his tongue inside and fill you up, both suddenly shaking with desire for one another.

* * *

Eventually, he finds the zipper on the back of your dress, and you hear it descend, the cold air that hits your bare back, combined with your partner's cool fingertips, raising goosebumps all across your skin and tightening your nipples in the process.

"Cold?" asks Castle, when he feels you shiver.

"No. Just..warm me up," you ask, a little shyly, since this is your first time together since the train ride home from Chicago.

"With pleasure," he replies, helping you to step out of your dress, his throat bobbing when he catches sight of your expensive charcoal grey lace underwear and matching bra, the half-cup design revealing the pale pink buds of your nipples where they stand to attention, balancing on the brink of each cup as if they might just overflow.

His eyes sweep down over your bare legs, and then he lifts you up, carrying you over to the bed and laying you down, unable to wait any longer.

"Need some help?" you ask, as he begins working on his shirt buttons with some urgency.

"Won't be a second," he tells you, quickly freeing his cuffs and stripping the shirt off with lightening speed.

You have his belt buckle undone by the time his shirt hits the floor and he laughs nervously at your eagerness.

"Pretty keen there, Beckett," he teases, undoing his own zipper and hopping out of his pants one leg at a time, almost falling over in the process.

"Like you're not," you tease back, lying down on the bed again when he places a knee on the mattress between your thighs and crawls up along the length of you.

"I loved being your plus one today," he breathes, devastating your mouth with his tongue, probing and pulsing, sucking and nipping at your lip with his teeth, until you arch under him, your hands pressed either side of his spine to get him to lay down on top of you, needing to feel him, feel the weight on him on top of your body, feel every contour and hard line and curve forcing you into the mattress, covering you, owning you, desiring you.

"I love…" you pant breathlessly, grabbing hold of his face, and easing his head back far enough that you can look at each other. "Castle, I love you," you confess, watching his eyes widen in an instant, before you surge up to crash your mouth into his, stealing the air from his lungs, pouring four years of wanting and withholding into him so he can feel what it means to be loved by you, so he can maybe know that you heard him without you having to confess those sad, cowardly words and risk ruining this new thing that you're creating together with the revelation of an ugly lie.

He wrenches himself away from you as if he's been shocked, the lower half of his body pushing up against yours, already fully aroused, and he stares wildly at you.

"Did you just say…?" he gasps, physically shaking, flicking his eyes over yours, moving from one to the other, roaming the landscape of your face in search of the truth.

You nod vigorously, wordlessly, hoping that he doesn't ask the one question you're fearful of, hoping that this is enough; that sharing this heavy secret will help to heal you.

"Is this the wedding?" he asks, his voice tight with emotion. "This is the wedding, isn't it?" he repeats, preparing himself for a fall, trying to let himself down gently; like a baby's self-soothing cry.

"It's not the wedding, Castle," you try to reassure him. "Wedding has nothing to do with it. I loved you last month, last week and I'll love you the next. I know why you might doubt me, but…"

You shake your head, clearing your mind, slotting the feelings into spaces that can produce words in your brain that will mean something real to him.

"But?" he prompts, the fear still in his eyes.

"You have to believe me. This is long overdue, I know, and I'm sorry. You deserved to know before now how I felt about you even if I wasn't ready to start a relationship with you."

He rolls off you onto the bed and you feel the loss of his body keenly; like a punishment. But he only goes so far as to lie beside you, so that he can listen to this.

"How long?" he asks, and you turn onto your side so that you can look at him openly, give him this at least.

"A long time," you admit, shaking your head again, "I don't know exactly. I mean, do _you_?" you ask, the presumption that he feels the same giving you away if he's paying attention. "How can anyone know the exact, precise moment when liking someone turns into lov—?"

"Two years," Castle says quietly, cutting you off.

"I'm sorry?" you say, doing a double take.

"The night after Coonan died. I came back to tell you that I couldn't shadow you anymore and you fought for me, to keep me there. You said that you'd got used to having me around, that I made your job a little easier. I knew then that I was in love with you, Kate. The relief, when I tried to do the honorable thing, and you stopped me. The thought of not seeing you again was killing me, but I had to cut myself off for your sake and then you wouldn't let me."

"Two years," you repeat, watching him closely, the memories that are flicking like a movie reel through his brain and behind his eyes, showing on the outside of his face. "And you've just been…_waiting_ this whole time?"

"With the odd stupid slip-up, yes."

"So, when you said that this – _us_ - isn't as new as I think it is…?"

"I know it might not be the same for you. But that doesn't mean that this relationship started up a week ago on that train. I can't presume to know how you felt, Kate, but I know there was something between us that went beyond liking."

"And yet you doubt that I love you?" you challenge him.

"You said we were getting caught up in the romance of the wedding. It's not a crime, Kate. It's easy to do. To watch two people who love one another, who're perfect for one another, make the ultimate commitment. Isn't that what we all want? To find our soul mate?"

"I said that when you wanted to propose," you point out. "So…what is this then if…if we're not as good as Jenny and Kevin?"

"I'm not saying that we're not, okay?"

"Then what _are_ you saying, Castle? Because I'm getting mixed messages here. First you say you fell in love with me two years ago, but then you accuse me of not feeling the same way about you. I…" you sigh, push a hand through your hair in frustration. "I don't _do_ this. You _know_ me. I don't let anyone get this close to me unless…"

"Unless _what_? Does that mean you loved Will Sorensen or Mike Royce?" he asks, shocking you that these relationships still grate on him, still hurt him. "And what about Josh?"

"That was different and a long time ago," you say, sitting up on the bed, crossing your arms and legs, as Castle sits up beside you, suddenly feeling far too close to naked for this.

"_How_ was it different?"

"Because it just was, okay."

"No. Not good enough, Kate. Talk to me. Please? We need to learn to communicate if we have any hope of being anything like Kevin and Jenny."

"I loved Mike, _okay_?" you almost yell, gritting your teeth once it's out there. "Happy now? He took me under his wing. I was lost. And he taught me so much, Castle. He nurtured me, gave me confidence in myself, showed me I had the potential to be a good cop when all I had was my mom's murder to drive me forward and my dad in my ear telling me I was throwing my life away. Looking back, it was misguided love borne out of gratitude, it was immature, and it wasn't returned. It was nothing like you and I have, not even on our worst days did it compare."

"And Sorensen?"

"I never loved Will. He chose a job over me, Castle. That should tell you all you need to know about that relationship."

"You sound bitter."

"It was just sex, okay? Surely _you_ can understand that. Not every relationship is deep and meaningful. I think I'm entitled to my share of mistakes. They have absolutely no bearing on this, other than to highlight how much better life can be when you're with someone you really care about."

* * *

You slump forward, resting you chin on your hands, your elbows balanced on your knees, then reach down to pluck at a stray feather that's poking out of the comforter. The fluffy white down reminds you not to be a coward, not to let this argument grow into something that might hold you back from everything you've been working towards.

"Why are we fighting?" you ask, turning to look at him, gently placing your hand on his leg.

"I don't know. I honestly don't," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I think…I'm hoping... Okay, I _believe_ that this is it for me. You make me feel _hopeful_, Castle. Hell, you make me_ feel period_. That emotional wall I've been protecting myself with? It's finally coming down. And it's all because of you."

"You mean that?"

"How do I prove it to you? Tell me how I can make you believe in me?"

"I already believe in you, Kate. That's not the problem. That was never the problem."

"Then I don't understand. What is?"

"I guess I have some walls of my own to break down. Some…insecurities, I suppose."

"_You?_" you laugh, and Castle looks up sharply, surprised to hear you sounding so amused. "_Insecure?_"

"Where you're concerned, yes. A little."

"Castle, you have no need to be, I can assure you. Look, how about we work on those walls together, hmm? I can be your wrecking ball if you'll be mine," you suggest, tugging on the front of his boxers, playfully.

"Wrecking ball, huh?" he grins, as you smooth your hands up his thighs, and then lean in to kiss him tentatively, crawling up onto your knees to get close to him.

"Mmm, something like that," you hum, darting your tongue out to moisten his lips.

"I like the sound of that," he murmurs, opening his mouth for you as you topple over onto the mattress with a squeal of delight.

* * *

He stays for the rest of the weekend. You go shopping on Sunday morning to Macy's for more underwear (his), jeans (both of you), and a couple of extra shirts, since it's one of the few stores open nearby that you can be bothered visiting for a quick in and out before a long, lazy brunch. Duane Reade gets a raid too on the way back home. You stock up on razor blades, hair gel, this sensitive moisturizer he makes you swear not to tell the boys about and a new toothbrush that now rests alongside yours in the glass over your bathroom sink.

You lie in bed for hours as the late afternoon sun sinks slowly away, pretending you're back on that train, your head in his lap while he reads to you from one of his books, fingers stroking through your hair. You close your eyes and you drift, you see flashes of a future, bright white and virgin fresh, new territory for you to explore together - the impossible suddenly looking distinctly possible - and you find that want it more than anything you can ever remember wanting.

His voice lulls you to sleep, and then his kisses wake you up during the night, his hands on your body, his whispers in your ear, an expert thief who's stolen your heart; fingers slipping inside your underwear, stroking you to wet, thrashing abandon, your shirt tugged over your head, his mouth on your swollen nipples leaving you keening, writhing, the sheets balled up in your fists as you fight to hold on. A grunt and a thrust and he's inside you and you're gasping and moaning and rocking, hauling him down on top of you, your legs wrapped tightly around him like it's never, ever going to be enough, as if you'll never be able get him close enough.

You break yourselves down over long, confession-filled hours, sharing the best and the worst you have to offer, and then you begin to rebuild a new whole, piece by piece; a better whole you can live with together.

* * *

You arrive at the precinct together on Monday morning, each carrying a cup of coffee which _you_ ordered from Billy this time, a little heart now scrawled in black Sharpie next to Castle's name; a heart shot through with a feathered arrow for extra measure. Sweet revenge that makes him smile.

Your walls are crumbling to dust, and judging by Castle's prowess between the sheets, his blew away in the brief storm of a discussion you had right after the wedding; no hint of any doubt or insecurity left to linger over how he feels about you or how you might feel about him.

The case finally closes after leads tumble in like felled dominos. You fill bankers boxes up with files and photographs, evidence bags and DD5's and then it's time to go home, to live a life outside of work, to address a new fork in the road.

"So, your place or mine?" you ask Castle, when you hit the street together.

He turns to you with open surprise, takes your hand, and tugs you towards the curb, fast, hard, until you're running, a childish smile of glee on your face.

"I don't care," he says, laughing as he pushes you into the back of a cab and crawls in behind you. "I really don't care."

* * *

_**White, **noun: a color that is actually free from color, like milk or new snow, since it actually means the presence of all colors. White is the color of purity, innocence and goodness. Brides wear white in many countries because white symbolizes virginity. White is Monday's color. White means openness and truth and is the best color to symbolize successful new beginnings. The phrase __"white knight"_ represents one who comes to the rescue; a good and noble hero.

* * *

_A/N: And so we're finished. Hope you enjoyed that. Let me know what you thought if you have a minute. My thanks to Dana Keylits for her take on when Castle fell in love with Beckett. Only 18 weeks left to go, kiddos. But the writers are back writing, so all is good. (I hope) :) Liv_


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